One Simple Question
by Juntaine
Summary: After the conclusion of the Imperial Agent story. Kaliyo has a personal question and she's not leaving until she gets her answer. Spoilers! Male agent x Kaliyo


**My first playthrough of SWTOR was the Imperial Agent. The story and the characters were so amazing. Plus I got a little too attached to the male agent's voice. Anyways, this is something I wondered about while playing and I think Kaliyo would be curious as well.**

**This takes place after the entire story arc, so please note there will be _SPOILERS_. Only read if you already know how the story ends or don't care. Also, it gets a bit...saucy at the end.**

**Thanks for reading and please review!**

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Kaliyo Djannis was not one to ask questions. Questions led to information, information that was often expensive and she hated paying for anything. Questions also led to feelings, something she also tried to avoid whenever possible. But there was something bothering her and blast it if she couldn't stop thinking about it.

The ship was quiet. None of the crew stirred; it was a late hour, but Kaliyo never believed in going to bed early. Late night was when all the good stuff happened and she did hate to miss out. She stopped in front of an open doorway. A single light was on, indicating she wasn't the only one awake. A figure in a long coat leaned over the computer, silent save for the quiet tapping as his fingers touched the keypads.

"Hey," said Kaliyo casually, leaning against the doorway. "What's got you up this late?"

"Sorting," replied the figure in a cultured imperial accent, in a way she always felt too precise for it to be his native tongue.

"Miss Intelligence, huh?"

"Miss it? No. But I am disappointed I am no longer in its services."

She watched him, large silver-grey eyes catching every subtle movement. "You've been with Intelligence a long time."

"Yes I have, actually." He suddenly turned around, his red eyes glittering in the dim light. "What's with all the questions, Kaliyo? You've never been one to care about my work."

She shrugged smoothly. "I just got curious."

He grinned, blue lips parting to show white teeth. "I have a hard time believing that."

Kaliyo kept her face neutral. "Why not give up on catching up with your Intelligence friends and let's have a talk."

A blue-black eyebrow cocked. "A talk?"

"Yeah, a talk. Don't sound so surprised. Things are different now, and it's something I want to do."

He gave a small laugh. "Fair enough. What's on your mind?"

"I've been with you a while. Feels like a long time. We've fought on dozens of planets, schemed and betrayed to end up here. I didn't mind working for you. Still don't. There's just one thing that's bothering me."

He leaned on the computer, arms crossed and said nothing.

"It's not something I normally care about. You see a guy, he buys you a drink, maybe something happens. But like I said, things are different, and I guess maybe I do care. This time."

"Kaliyo?"

She continued. "All this time, I've been calling you 'Agent.' But the way I figure, by now, we're beyond professionalism and secrecy. The thing is, I've been wondering what your name is. Your real name. Not the one Intelligence has on file, or if they ever did, and not one of your fake ones. I promise I won't tell anyone. I think I have the right to ask now."

Watching him, he seemed to tense up for a moment, then he leaned his head back and barked a laugh. Kaliyo crossed her arms, mirroring him, her silver eyes unwavering. He pushed off the computer console, a small smile on his lips. He crossed over to her, took her hand in his. He pulled off her gloves, revealing the small circle around one of her fingers.

"Because of this, you ask, and so I will answer. But it won't come cheap."

It was Kaliyo's turn to laugh, pleased with his response. His smile was confident; he leaned in and whispered the price in her ear. She hissed. "You're ambitious," she said, but she was smiling. "Still, I know what I'm dealing with. And I think you know what you're dealing with, too."

With that confident smile, he pulled her into the room, towards the bed where the sheets were precisely folded and tucked; unused. As the door hissed closed behind her, they found each other, discovered each other. The Agent was no mystery, she'd explored him before, but she found new secrets, new surprises. The tidy sheets became tangled, the precise folding came undone. Wrinkles and creases replaced flatness and uniformity. At her weakest moment, when the things she'd avoided all her life came crashing through her senses, his lips found her neck and he whispered his name. The sounds rolled off his alien tongue and she absorbed them. Those syllables found no echo on her lips; his price demanded silence. Gripping the sheets with sweaty grey hands, she lost herself again and again, those syllables repeating through her head in his voice, until even she had to stop. It was then that she held him, leaned into his arms. It was then that she said again the three words he had demanded to hear. A fair trade of words, to be kept between them and only for them. And she was content.


End file.
